Monday, October 13, 2014

Carl's Song

Its been some years since I've seen your face
But that doesn't change a thing for me
And everyday something will go down
That breathes life into your memory
You were a friend, with the truest heart
And in my heart is where you'll be
I'll never forget the brother you were
Word of your deeds will live through me

For all the lots & all the shows
and all the couches when we were on the road
For every night and every day
For every word you ever said

You will live on through my thoughts
& you will live on through my deeds
& you will live on through my words
You will live on through me for eternity...

Sunday, October 5, 2014


You are a slave to all things you should master. A drooling, grinning jester dancing like a moron through the remains of a life no one would claim. Your only joy is in, better to call them lullabies. These stories you pretend to remember, your heritage is a fraud.

Of course, jester, you are too stupid to take offense. Even if you were to hold the Rosetta Stone in one hand and a detailed explanation of this thinly veiled indictment in the other...even then you have a stray dog's sycophantic and pathetic acceptance of abuse. It is, after all, attention.

In the end you will fight. It will be too late, understand, but you will cling to this life because you never truly lived it. Your one dimensional character study bullshit hasn't served you well(bringing to mind my opening line about being a slave to all you should master).

You will die, as you were born-an empty vessel. Knowing nothing. Standing for nothing. You will die as you live, a nobody. The sum end of your unknown European heritage. All the same, you do not deserve your ancestor's blessing or knowledge. You deserve to die a cultureless, ignorant wretch...No ancestor's halls wait open for you.

Wednesday, July 9, 2014

Ruthless Muse


My life is so insane right now. I needed this bit of light in the darkness...

Friday, May 23, 2014

Nothing to Say (16)

Pencil in your status for the evening/jinglin' a key ring, like monsters from the sea bring/hobbled up the street like Blood in Blood out/yucky orange flavor used to get the duds out/but its all recreation/could never stand the taste'n, could never let the waste in/he guessed its better than the brown junk/less morning sickness, less time in the trunk/aerosol dreams used to paint his weekends/he stayed away from weak friends, instead would sneak the deep ends/now he's underneath the hoodie/ away from the hood, g...looking sort of poodgie/never was one for fashion/instead showed a passion for bareknuckle bashin'/so he's jinglin' his keys again/time to hit the road and get to minglin'

Sunday, March 16, 2014

Mike Marlow interviews Josh Mattocks 3/16/14

Mike: Hello Josh, aka Pablo Diablo aka MFMosh! I'm here in sunny, snowy Cleveland Ohio to conduct a short interview, focusing on your history, views, tastes in various areas, and opinion on the Purpler Hamster Foundation Society for the Preservation of Oddly Shaded Small Creatures Trust Fund Initiative.

Mike: Question 1-Where were you born, where else have been your long-term places of residence, and which of these would you like to be at right now, and why? 

Josh: I was born in New Castle, Pa. another rustbelt town like Clevo...former steel mill town that died in the 70's/80's when the steel industry dried up. I've lived all over...Florida, Maryland, Louisiana. But as far as where I call's always been a tie between Cleveland and Pittsburgh. These are the places that I really came up in & I have equal love for both cities. I've spent more time in Pennsylvania at this point, have always been a Steelers hooligan...but I'll always have love for Cleveland.

Mike: Question 2-Ok, it's not exactly phrased as a proper question, but hey, it's alright. Please name 3 bands/groups that are among your all time favorites, and also 3 of your most disliked. If you need to list more than 3 it's ok, but please not too many, our servers here at MARLOWCOM are VERY busy.

Josh: Thats tough...I want to keep it local for now, and give it up for Wisdom in Chains, American Werewolves and Wreak Havoc... Three bands that I have always disliked are Kiss, Lynard Skynard, and Pantera.

Mike: Question 3-Tell me your happiest childhood memory...and what event ruined it for you.

Josh:'s a combination of things, some of the best shit was the most simple too. Kicking it with the homies in Zone, Mohichan and Madison Parks. Nothing ruined it...I mean Betsy from 7/11 tried to stop our shine, but for real...people just grew apart as we got older. If I had a wish it'd be that we could all be on a level that we were able to all communicate without any badness.

Mike: Question 4-If you could prove beyond a doubt that Kurt Cobain WAS and IS the Eternal Virgin Mary Mother Of God...would you share this information, or keep it from the masses?  

Josh:I would definitely sit on that info. For one, I am not a fan of Nirvana...and aside from that I don't think the world is ready for that sort of revelation.

Mike: Question 5-This is perhaps the most relevant social issue of our generation. If Super Jock and Freedom Rock own these fuckin Lakewood blocks.....what did Bill and Bob do??

Josh: Damn...I am trying to remember the line. "Bill and Bob cooked good pork chops"? "Bill and Bob drank soda pop"? I don't know...Don't quote me Mike, I ain't said shit.

Saturday, February 22, 2014

This is not about forgiveness...

With all of the animal insanity of the past week or so I almost forgot to record this even for future discussion and pondering. So I had better do it now before my creative filter destroys the matter all together.

For those of you who don't know me, and for those of you who do know me with out knowing all of the details of my life: I have been stabbed twice. The first stabbing taking place here in New Castle; this being the incident pertinent to the story at hand so that is the one that I will briefly detail here.

This was the mid 90's & I was walking through the projects one night on my way to work a third shift @ the plastics plant job that I hated. The projects of New Castle held then & hold now little threat of danger...after Cleveland & witnessing King Kennedy, DTW on Longwood or the pj's on E. 55th, the projects in New Castle are tame.

Be that as it may, never underestimate the stupidity of drunks in groups of 3 or more. I was walking past a group of guys out on their porch drinking, one addressed me "Whats up?" I reply with the standard "Whats up?" back and continue walking. I hear one of the group say "What the fuck did that white boy say?" I am from the street, and at that point I knew what it was, I loosened up and turned around because I was gonna face which ever of these dudes wanted to step. Three of them approach with a few left on the porch. I sized up a taller light skinned kid who seemed to pose the biggest threat and swung. It has been my experience that you are not going to talk or walk out of situations like this so the best defense is an offense. As soon as I swung I was flanked from both sides.

I made it to my feet once before being consumed by the swarm...fists and shoe rubber smashing my face and body. I had been here before. I knew that time slowed down during violence, that my best bet at this point was to cover my head and wait for these chump to impress each other enough to quit. After a minute or so that felt like a day they backed I am standing up I notice a shorter dark skinned kid has a blade out...and I square up again defensive like, my attackers just laughing and heading back toward their porch and bottled they are walking off I notice that my right arm is soaked. Blood gushing, rhythmic with my heartbeat, leaking crimson down to the concrete.

Following this, the usual chain of events unfolded...I tried to bet my homie Buddha to butterfly the wounds, but they were leaking too hard, so I had to call off work and head to the hospital and get sewn up. Life didn't change...I lived, continued walking through the same projects to work, though now I carried a knife of my own. Since that night I have held two faces in my head...the light skinned kid that I swung on and his little buddy who stabbed me. I wished every time I came back to New Castle to have a fair one with either of them...I wished this for many years.

So finally almost two decades later, I am doing all this insignificant running around, called into the middle of a sick and stupid fight between my now former roomie and her married boyfriend. I am walking back toward my house when I see the kid who stabbed me walking out of the drug den apartments @ the end of my block. He is hobbled now, maybe some back or knee injuries, looking like he is a foot shorter and a hundred pounds lighter than I am. A pure crackhead/junkie/druggie zombie...raggedy, ridiculous purple coat on over tattered pants and indistinguishable shoes. Yet seeing him, and seeing him as easy prey I couldn't bring myself to think with a vengeful mind. As time often does, a moment repeated it's self & he said "Whats up?" to me as he passed, to which I answered with a standard "Whats up?" No alcohol or friends now to pump him up...he walked his awkward walk down the dirty street we live on. I watched him as he disappeared back into the legend of my mind, another story filed away for later use.

Now I want to be clear, this is not about forgiveness. It is about compassion...and there is a difference. I do not want vengeance, karma has already done to him more than I could do. I show myself compassion that day by not being attached to anger and ideas of revenge, to do so keeps my karmic slate clean. And this guy who stabbed me? Who knows, I wish him the best...I hope that he can find a way to clean up his own slate. 

Wednesday, January 22, 2014

Witch Doctor(peace and silence)

I don't want to do anything. I just want to sit here and listen to old hardcore and suck down cigarettes and coffee. I don't want to vote for your presidents or look at your hideous baby pictures on Facebook. I don't want to answer your text messages or see whats new in your world.

Can I just read Dostoevsky in peace? Can I sew the hole in my jacket pocket in silence?

Why do you steal from me? If it isn't my clothes, it's my time...or worse yet my consciousness.

I don't want to do anything. I just want to sit here and listen to the old gods talk about the time when I was a king. I don't need a Narcotics Anonymous meeting. I don't want your church. I don't want your methadone. I don't want to reply to your non-sense.

Can I commune with Bukowski in peace? Can I listen to my Bad Brains in silence?

Why do you steal what I don't have? You are a hungry ghost, never satisfied.

I don't want to do anything. I just want to sit in the dark and smoke cheap cigars. I will not go to your party, I will not meet you for lunch(even if you are paying). I will not validate you. Can't I just be left to my own device?

Can I pour over Ginsberg's tomes in peace? Harvest my pain in silence?

Why do you insist on stealing my energy? When I disappear no one will notice.

Thursday, January 9, 2014


destinies failed & alliances broken
the deepest of screams will sometimes go unspoken
the value of pain & chaos and truth
leaving a human shell-jaded, unmoved

this is the end result of a lifetime
embraced by nightmares, violence & crime
mind turns stone, the only solution
blood follows blood, and sweet retribution

see it in my eyes/contempt knows no disguise
like the sun falling from the sky, unleashed on this world

Monday, January 6, 2014

Too Late

The success came too late. He was already too hard...the tyrannical parents, the group homes and juvenile detention centers had taken too much energy from him. Later the bottle and the heroin and the women and the jail cells would take more energy. He looked at the world with a disinterest. He didn't hate the world, or people, but he saw the cracks in the facade. He was cynical. And he had no anxiety about this.

The small home in Venice Beach came too late. It wasn't Dogtown anymore. It wasn't a surf ghetto by the sea. He may as well still live in Pittsburgh, he would often think this as he walked the beach. California was dead...His Bukowski was gone. His Black Flag was gone. He saw Keith Morris on a regular basis and he never bothered to approach him. What was the point?

The peace came too late. He no longer could appreciate it. The chaos that had coddled him no longer allowed for peace to be a mistress. He could no longer understand or operate in it.

The success came too late.

Sunday, January 5, 2014

Wind Up (part I)

"When I was young and they packed me off to school, and they taught me how not to play the game. I didn't mind if they groomed me for success or if they said that I was just a fool...So I left there in the morning with their "god" tucked underneath my arm, their half-assed smiles and the book of rules. So I asked this god a question and by way of firm reply he said "I'm not the kind you have to wind up on Sunday"  So to my old headmaster, or to anyone who cares; before I'm through I'd like to say my prayers."

Ian Anderson-Wind Up/Aqualung 1972

And so before I am through I will want to have my say...If anything in life I have been too fair, too forgiving to people and elements that are not so inclined to fairness or forgiveness as I am. I have been developed the most keen introspect, and I am able to see my flaws and assets clearly. This can be a curse and a blessing...while I am able to see and therefor improve my flaws, or eliminate them altogether, I am at a disadvantage at times in that while I will admit my own wrong, I expect no one to do the same. I have learned that it is not my place to point out other's faults...As is my nature, I have no desire to lead or follow so my capacity to criticize others is low. Even to a point where I will often eat shit for this quality.

So it has been decided, by me of course, that while working on various writing ventures is well and may behoove me to also take time to give my account of one of the more significant and turbulent relationships in my life. To this point the relationship will remain nameless...and it may always remain so, but the point is that people familiar will know and understand my own side of the events through the years. It does me no good to be silent on the fact, it only makes me look bad and lends to the other party's one sided campaign of chicanery and delusion.

Being the good sport that I am, I will always leave this blog uncensored...and any feedback is not only welcome but encouraged. This will be all for now...but I will end by saying that this brings me no pleasure. I simply need for my side to be heard.